the inherent dangers of coffee dates
by Morning Elegance
Summary: Of course James Kirk would go into full blown anaphylaxis in a crowded Starbucks. Lucky for him, the cute stranger he just met seems to know an awful lot about managing medical emergencies...


"Quad latte for Jim?"

Jim elbows his way through the horde of people swarming the Starbucks counter. "Here!" he calls, stretching his hand out to grab the drink from a frenzied-looking barista.

The woman hands him his coffee with a hum of acknowledgement and hurries back toward the espresso machine before Jim can even thank her. Holding his drink above his head, Jim carefully navigates his way back through the crowd. "Excuse me," he murmurs, turning sideways and sucking in his stomach to squeeze past a woman with a grossly oversized backpack.

Finally breaking free from the crowd, Jim exhales a sigh of relief as he adjusts his messenger bag on his shoulder. It probably hadn't been his brightest idea to go to the campus's only Starbucks at nine in the morning on the last day of finals week. Apparently, he and half of the Iowa State student body have decided that they need a caffeine fix _right fucking now._ The small store is jam-packed with college students and the cashier's line goes straight out the door. It's taken Jim nearly thirty minutes to get his overpriced beverage, but after a sleepless night spent studying for his Astrophysics final, Jim figures he deserves a pick-me-up.

Setting his coffee down on a nearby windowsill, Jim digs his winter gloves and hat from his coat pocket and sets to bundling up for his trek across campus. If he hurries, he can probably swing by his apartment to study for twenty minutes or so before-

"Pardon me."

A southern drawl interrupts his musings. Turning around, Jim is met by the sight of a very, _very_ attractive man. And sweet Jesus, if he isn't _exactly_ Jim's type. Tall and lean, with tan skin and cropped, dark brown hair. Well-dressed too, Jim notes appreciatively. Fitted trousers, leather shoes and an expensive looking wool coat.

He instantly regrets deciding to wear his orange knit pom-pom hat today. The man's curiously amber-colored eyes look Jim slowly up and down before finally raising to meet his own.

"I think that's my drink you have there."

Jim blinks once and turns to glance at the coffee cup still sitting on the windowsill. "Um… it is?" he asks after a long moment, wincing internally at how _stupid_ he sounds. Sleep deprivation and incredibly hot strangers certainly don't bode well for his flirtation prowess.

"Yeah," the man drawls, gesturing again at the cup. "That's my name on there, anyhow."

Jim squints at the cup, just now noticing the word scribbled on its side in black sharpie. "...Boris?" he reads the name aloud, struggling to make out the illegible scrawl.

The stranger shifts back and forth uncomfortably. "It's Bones, actually."

Jim fights back a giggle of incredulity. "Your name is Bones?"

The man rubs a hand across the back of his head, looking a bit abashed. "Nickname," he explains with a shrug. "Real name's Leonard. Bit of a mouthful to write on a cup, though. Not nice an' short like 'Jim', anyhow."

The man- _Bones-_ goes to hand him a second drink that Jim hasn't noticed until now. And sure enough, there's his name written on the side of the cup in big block letters.

"Oh," Jim says simply, taking the cup from the man's hands. "Jeez. Sorry about that."

Bones reaches to grab his own coffee from the windowsill. "Not your fault," he replies with a crooked smile that sets Jim's heart racing. "Surprised they're not mixing up more orders with how crowded this place is today. 'S not usually _this_ busy on a Wednesday."

Jim returns the smile and takes a distracted sip of his drink. "That's finals week for you. God only knows how college kids would survive without their Starbucks."

"Ah," the man grunts. "That'd certainly explain it. You one of them 'college kids'?"

Jim takes another long drink of coffee and flashes the man a winning smile and a cheeky wink. "Kind of," he admits. "Grad student, technically. But just as caffeine dependent as the rest of them."

Bones lets out a sharp bark of genuine laughter that has Jim grinning from ear to ear. "You're not a student, then?" Jim asks, trying to prolong their conversation.

"An old man like me? Nah," Bones replies with a smirk. "I work nearby. Stop here pretty often on my way there. Caffeine dependency isn't a trait strictly limited to cute college students, I'll have you know."

Bones stares at him pointedly. It takes Jim a few seconds to process what the man just said. _Cute college students._ His heart begins racing in his chest. "Um," he stammers, his palms and back suddenly uncomfortably sweaty. "Me?"

"Yeah, you," Bones replies with a small smile, looking the tiniest bit sheepish. "Er- maybe you'd wanna grab coffee with me sometime, or somethin'?"

Out of nowhere, a wave of intense nausea hits Jim, so strong that it nearly sends him reeling. Eyes growing wide with alarm, he begins to breathe rapidly, struggling to swallow against the sudden, acrid taste in his mouth. "I- um-"

Across from him, the man's face quickly falls. "No pressure or anything," Bones is quick to amend. "Sorry if I read the signs wrong. I just… you alright, kid?"

Ignoring the other man, Jim grasps the collar of his coat and pulls it away from his neck. He begins to hyperventilate with short, gasping breaths that make his chest ache. _Oh fuck,_ Jim thinks to himself, eyes widening with sudden realization. He eyes the coffee cup in his hand, noticing the telltale hives beginning to peek out from his shirt sleeves. _Fucking allergies-_

He glances up at Bones, noting detachedly that the man's concerned face is beginning to swim in and out of focus. "I-" Jim tries to explain, but all at once, it's getting really, _really_ hard to breathe.

Beginning to audibly wheeze, Jim's coffee falls to the floor with a splash as his hand slackens involuntarily. "Al-" Jim struggles to speak again, now tugging desperately on the neck of his coat with both hands. "I-"

His vision starts to tunnel. He feels his knees begin to buckle beneath him, but before they can give out, a pair of hands grasp him underneath his arms. He's leaned backwards against a strong chest for a moment before his rapidly slackening body is lowered to the floor.

A voice shouts for help from somewhere above him. Jim struggles to draw air through his swelling windpipe, one hand still clawing at his neck, the other reaching desperately toward his side. Toward his messenger bag, where he _always_ carries his EpiPen, because _fucking allergies_. But God, he can't find the bag- he can barely see through the haze of grey surrounding his vision. God, he can't fucking _breathe-_

He feels a pair of warm hands grasp him by the jaw and tilt his head upwards, the action opening his airway in a way that makes it the tiniest bit easier to draw breath. He manages to focus his gaze on the face floating above him- and there's Bones, with his broad hands on Jim's face, looking pale and wide-eyed and absolutely frenzied as he shouts at someone over his shoulder.

Jim's hand twitches weakly at his side. He struggles to keep his eyes open, his mind growing slow and foggy from gradual oxygen deprivation. The pair of hands on his face begin to shake him, and he realizes detachedly that a voice is calling his name repeatedly.

"Jim! Fuck, Jim! You gotta stay awake for me, kid-"

The panicked voice cuts in and out as Jim fights to remain conscious. His right hand spasms as he tries unsuccessfully reaching for his bag again- reaching for that goddamned _EpiPen-_

"B'g," Jim manages to squeeze the strangled word out of his swollen throat in one final, desperate attempt to alert someone to the location of his pen. His extremities have gone numb and tingly, and he feels his hands go suddenly limp at his sides.

Fingers tighten on his cheeks. Bright lights fade in and out of focus. And then, a panicked face is filling his frame of vision, inches away from his own. Their mouth moves, forming words, but all Jim can hear is a high pitched ringing in his ears.

His eyes close involuntarily as he begins to lose his struggle with consciousness. The hands holding his face upright pull abruptly away, and God, if only Jim could think straight. If he could only _speak._ Then he could ask those hands to come back, to stay awhile longer, so nice and lovely and big and warm on his cold, numb face-

A sharp, sudden pain in his thigh breaks through the haze that is Jim's mind. He twitches weakly, and then abruptly arches his back as the invisible vise that's constricting his throat loosens.

He gasps, reflexively taking in deep, shuddering breaths that set his lungs on fire and have his limbs shaking in relief. The hands are back on his face now, tilting it upwards, and a deep voice is next to his ear, speaking gentle reassurances-

"Easy, easy now. There ya go. Breathe, just breathe Jim, it's okay now, just relax-"

And he tries, but God, his chest is burning, and his hands are shaking, and he can't suck in air fast enough. God, it feels like he's choking on it. He can't think straight. His head is spinning, and he's scared- so fucking _afraid-_

A strange, rushing noise fills his ears, and then, Jim knows no more.

* * *

He awakens gradually, blinking against the harsh, fluorescent lights above him as he returns to consciousness. Groaning at the throbbing in his head, he reaches a hand up to rub at his face, grimacing as the action makes bright starbursts dance behind his eyes.

"How are you feeling, Jim?"

Startling, Jim turns his stiff neck toward the voice. "...Bones?" he asks after a moment, recognizing the figure seated next to him. He blinks blearily at the man as his memories catch up with his consciousness.

"Yeah," Bones replies, going to stand from his chair. "You remember what happened?"

Jim manages to lift his head and glance around the unfamiliar room. The various beeping monitors and white-washed walls are vaguely familiar. That, and the nasal cannula in his nose and telemetry monitor attached to his bare chest are dead giveaways that he's in a hospital.

"Yeah…" he mumbles after a long moment, letting his head fall back against his pillow. "I remember. Fucking allergies."

Bones laughs, sounding more relieved than anything. "Yeah, kid," he agrees dryly. "Fucking allergies is right. You went into full blown anaphylaxis on me."

"Not the first time," Jim replies, turning his head toward the other man. Bones is watching him with a disconcerted sort of expression. "I'm allergic to lots of stuff," Jim explains shortly, voice trailing off as he just now notices what Bones is wearing. Blue scrubs and a white lab coat, with a stethoscope and hospital name badge to boot.

Bones must notice Jim staring, because all at once, he looks terribly uncomfortably. "Erm, I don't mean to overstep professional boundaries or nothing. But I worked today anyway, and I knew the paramedics took you here, and I just wanted to check in and make sure you were doing alright-"

"You're a doctor?" Jim interrupts.

"...Yeah," Bones replies quietly. "Well, I'm still a resident, technically. Got another year to go. Orthopedics. 'S where I got my nickname."

Jim narrowly manages to restrain from giggling aloud. _A doctor._ Christ. As if the guy could get any more fucking perfect. "Lucky for me you happened to be in that coffee shop today," he offers after a prolonged moment of silence.

Bones's face turns dark. "Lucky you had that EpiPen on hand, more like. And lucky I found it when I did. Another minute or so, and..."

His voice trails off, but the implication is obvious. Jim frowns distractedly, just now noticing the dull, aching pain in his right thigh. The spot where Bones must have administered the injection, he realizes.

"Dunno if you remember any of that," Bones murmurs, sinking down in the chair next to Jim's bed. "You were pretty far gone at that point. Paramedics came 'bout five minutes after that. Gave you another round of epinephrine and some intravenous antihistamines. Sounds like they wanna keep you overnight for observation."

Jim nods detachedly and pushes the palm of his hand against his sore thigh until it begins to throb. "You saved my life," he states bluntly, turning to look Bones directly in the face.

The man flushes and averts his eyes. "Well, I dunno if-"

"You saved my life," Jim repeats solemnly, remaining silent until Bones meets his gaze once more. "And you think I'm cute."

The man's face turns even pinker. "I-" he stammers. "Well-"

Jim grins cheekily, reaching out from under the covers to take hold of the other man's hand. "I remember that much," he murmurs quietly. Bones stares at their joined hands with an expression of disbelief plastered on his face.

"Don't feel obligated or anything, kid," the man says suddenly, though he makes no move to unclasp their hands. "I woulda done that for anybody."

"I know," Jim replies, blinking his eyes sleepily as a sudden wave of exhaustion hits him. "I can tell. 'S one of the reasons I like you."

Yawning broadly, Jim misses the dazed expression on Bones's face. "I'm tired," Jim admits, burrowing further into the blankets. The hand gripping his own squeezes tightly.

"Yeah, anaphylactic shock will do that to you."

Jim hums in noncommittal agreement, eyes slipping shut of their own accord. "I'm gonna take you on a date when I get outta here," he mumbles, smiling sleepily as he feels Bones squeeze his hand again. "Just maybe not for coffee."

A deep voice chuckles from above him, and he feels a warm hand smoothing hair back from his forehead. "Definitely not for coffee," he hears Bones agree. "Sleep now, Jim. I'll be here when you wake up."

"M'kay," Jim murmurs, already half asleep. He drifts back into gradual unconsciousness for the second time that day, still gripping Bones's warm hand like a lifeline.

Only this time, he's not afraid.

* * *

Just some shameless fluffy whump to brighten your day! ＼(￣▽￣)/


End file.
